


Indifferent Touches of Affection

by maramarlowe



Category: GOT7
Genre: Actor Park Jinyoung (GOT7), Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Bottom Jackson Wang, Condoms, Couch Sex, Floor Sex, Gay Sex, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Influencer Jackson Wang, Light Angst, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Missionary Position, Puppy Play, Rope Bondage, Rough Sex, Top Park Jinyoung (GOT7), it's slight tho, mention of oral sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:55:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28989576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maramarlowe/pseuds/maramarlowe
Summary: Jackson always felt that Jinyoung was sincere. Especially when he had his dick thrusting, quick and needy, into his ass, or when he had Jackson's lips wrapped around his length, his own muttering an endless string of praises.But then, when Jinyoung met him at the door, his white button-up looking as crisp as it was when he arrived, and his goodbye as cold as a business transaction, Jackson wasn't really sure what to believe.He was sure this was why he was starting to hate actors. Jackson figured you could never truly tell the difference between when they were being sincere or when they were acting. Well, not the good actors anyways.And Jinyoung was a good actor.
Relationships: Park Jinyoung/Jackson Wang
Comments: 16
Kudos: 54





	Indifferent Touches of Affection

**Author's Note:**

> In celebration of GOT7 finally escaping from JYPE.

The door creaked open, drawing Jackson's attention from where he was thumbing through Instagram, liking the various comments left under his posts by fans. He responds to only a few, not wanting to draw too much attention just to have his DMs burst with fans hoping to catch a reply.

He perks up at the sound though, finishing typing a comment as he whines, "I'm hungry."

There's no response, so after he presses the little arrow to send, he asks, "is there anything to eat?"

Of course there was something to eat. The assistants were always quick to hand him the room service menu or wander down the street a bit to the bakery that was mostly filled by tourists drinking coffee and planning their activity-filled days ahead.

All Jackson did was scroll through Instagram. Well, that and eat. And sometimes he pissed or napped. Occasionally, he wasted his data on a laggy episode of a Chinese drama on Netflix.

He liked doing tourist activities. Hiking, kayaking, sight-seeing, taking pictures to post on social media. But for now, he was condemned to the hotel. No one could know where he was. Otherwise, a few stray fans would flock to the city hoping to catch a glimpse. The reporters would put two and two together so they could charge full force into the already crumbling wall of his career.

"You're hungry?" A hum, mockingly thoughtful. It had the precision of a professional actor. Jackson only knew one of those.

"I think I've got something to fill your mouth."

Without even thinking of how many key smashes go into the comment he's typing, Jackson swiftly rolls off the couch, landing on the carpeted floor beside the coffee table. Not that the table has ever held coffee for him. The occasional tea or protein shake though, yes.

On his hands and knees, it's easy for Jackson to feel how his body vibrates with excitement, elbows locking to keep him from dropping to the floor with liquid limbs.

"Were you a good boy?" The voice carries as shiny black, pointed shoes round the couch and enter his peripheral vision.

Jackson nods, chin easily dropping to his chest. "Yes, sir."

A perfectly timed chuckle, the pitch dipping to just the right degree. "You always are."

Before he can preen and glance up with a smile, Jackson bites his lip.

"Wang-gae," the voice addresses.

Figuring this is permission, Jackson looks up.

Jinyoung stands behind the armrest of the couch, hair as black and slick as the leather. He wears a white dress shirt tucked into dark brown slacks. The first two buttons are undone. The cuffs are rolled, twice. The plane ride must have been stifling. Still, though, the cotton looks crisp.

Jinyoung raises an eyebrow, eyes roaming over Jackson's face before taking in his freshly dyed hair. Then they travel across the firm expanse that is the rest of his body, only partly shielded by the oversized button-up shirt he'd stolen from Jinyoung the last time they'd met.

He sighs, and Jackson wonders if he's missed something crucial.

"Wang-gae," Jinyoung repeats, sounding annoyed. "Crawl."

Quickly, Jackson scrapes his knees over the rough carpet. His palms are slick where they touch the cool hardwood floor by Jinyoung's feet. This is where he halts, worried he may slip if he continues.

He keeps his head down, studying Jinyoung's shoes. There's not much to look at-- their condition is pristine. They look like he could have taken them out of the box just before entering the hotel room. Perhaps he had. Jackson didn't know much about the average spending habits of actors.

He at least knew that their predicament wasn't average. And that was all he felt he needed to know.

Jinyoung crouches down, fingers reaching for Jackson's chin so he can tilt his head and make their eyes meet.

Once they do, Jinyoung reaches out with his other hand and slaps Jackson's cheek.

Jackson wonders if it'll leave a mark. Even though he'll need to dig out the concealer from the bottom of his suitcase, a part of him wishes it will.

"Have you already become a dumb pup?" Jinyoung asks. Then, he clicks his tongue. "It's only been a few months. How could you have forgotten what's expected of you already?"

Jackson looks down, avoiding eye contact. "I'm sorry," he says.

Jinyoung ignores him, breaking off into an aside. "How could I have picked the dumbest of the litter?" He asks himself, as if Jackson wasn't right in front of him, still feeling the finger curled under his chin.

He fights the urge to whine, only allowing his pout to thicken. Jinyoung would pick up on it faster than a noise anyways.

"Has my pup been feeling neglected?" He coos, fingers carding through Jackson's hair.

It was pink. A soft shade, faded nearly to blonde, but Jackson bashfully hoped that Jinyoung liked it. If he asked, Jackson would lie and say his followers asked for it, or that it matched his latest strawberry protein shake partnership. He'd never admit that it was because Jinyoung told him he looked pretty in pink.

And if the pink Jinyoung was referring to was his flushed body after several rounds of sex, no one but Jackson needed to know.

Jackson nods.

Jinyoung runs his fingers over Jackson's cheekbones, up the slope of his nose. "Speak, pup," he encourages.

Jackson sucks in a breath. "Missed you so much," he begins, the words spilling like rushing water from his mouth. "Thought about you everyday; wanted you so much."

Jinyoung reaches back to his hair, slipping his fingers in the strands and tugging. "I said 'speak,' not 'yap.'"

Jackson yelps, head easily dropping back down with submission.

Jinyoung laughs, the sound a mere exhale. "An obedient pup overall though," he praises, moving his fingers from Jackson's bangs to curl his hand around the back of Jackson's neck.

"Now, crawl to the bed," he orders. "I don't have much patience to play today, I'm afraid. The pup will have to wait for his toys a little longer."

He tightens his grip on Jackson's neck, palm warm. "You can wait, can't you?"

Jackson drops his head further as an affirmation. Then, he begins to drag his knees, hands sliding across the hardwood floor in the direction of the bedroom.

The bedroom, upon entry, is cold. It's wooden floors send goosebumps rushing up Jackson's arms, flocking to his biceps, reaching for the back of his neck. They migrate from his kneecaps to his thighs, making him shiver. He reminds himself that he'll be wishing for the coldness of the floor when Jinyoung has him so flushed that he thinks he may burn out of his skin.

"Mm, good boy," Jinyoung says from behind him. "Get on the bed and take your underwear off."

Jackson does so, climbing easily on the bed and dropping onto his back so he could shimmy them down his legs and discard them on the floor.

When he pulls his elbows close to his ribs and sits up a little, Jackson's met with a front-row view of Jinyoung unbuttoning his shirt.

Jinyoung glances up at him when he begins to pull the fabric from his shoulders. "You'd better hurry getting yourself open if you don't want it to hurt when you sit for the next three days."

Jackson gulps. He knew, of course, that Jinyoung would never actually harm him like that. It was in the weird contract one of Jinyoung's assistants asked him to sign-- that he signed a new, freshly dated copy of every time they met up.

Still, the rush of the threat made his thighs twitch and his hands scramble in the sheets for the travel-sized lube he'd discarded there earlier.

By the time Jackson had already slicked his fingers, Jinyoung was standing at the foot of the bed, skin honeyed by the golden hour light pouring in through the large windows, the shades only half drawn.

Jinyoung kneels at the edge of the bed, running his fingers up Jackson's shin. "Are you going to show me how you open yourself wide thinking about me?"

Jackson fights the urge to moan, which tears through him like a bullet. Instead of giving in and needing to lap up his wounds by begging for praise, he distracts himself by reaching between his legs, over his swollen dick, his tight balls, and to the split of his ass.

His fingers dance over the plug he'd worked into himself a few hours earlier while feverishly jerking his hips in the bed that is meant to be Jinyoung's. They were going to end up sharing, anyways.

He catches the sight of one of Jinyoung's eyebrows raising in curiosity.

Sure that he had his full attention now, Jackson grabs onto the rounded end of the plug, pulling it from his hole, feeling the lube begin to seep out without anything to hold it in. Quickly, he replaces the toy with two of his fingers, pushing even more lube in and sealing it with his knuckles.

Jinyoung climbs fully onto the bed, guiding Jackson's legs to make more space for himself. With Jackson's knees bent, Jinyoung settles between them, reaching for Jackson's wrist.

Jackson is only able to scissor his fingers inside himself a few times before his wrist is being pulled, fingers slipping out of his hole.

Jinyoung slips one finger in, prodding at his walls, before he retracts it, focusing on the condom he's uncurling over his length.

He takes Jackson's wrist back into his hand, leading his lube-slicked fingers to his cock. Jackson wraps them around him, letting the lube from his fingers transfer as he jerks his wrist.

Then Jinyoung is palming his hip, patting his leg with the other hand, and it takes Jackson more energy than it really should to flip over, knees sinking into the memory foam while he pillows his head on crossed arms.

Jinyoung doesn't waste his time.

Sinking into Jackson-- right to the hilt in one firm thrust-- feels better than wrapping up his movie with one successful first-take of the last scene.

"Oh, Jinyoung." Jackson gasps, legs already begin to slip on the sheets, spreading wider. "Jinyoungie, feels so-"

Jinyoung grabs Jackson's hip, determined to knead the moan out of him. "Yeah? Feels good?" He goads.

With a sharp breath in, Jackson says, "God, yes."

That's all the encouragement Jinyoung needs to tighten his grip on Jackson's hip, driving himself in deeper. He bites his lip, feeling Jackson's efforts to clench around him each time skin slaps against skin, filling the space with the sounds of their long-awaited reunion.

The pace isn't necessarily fast, as hard as Jinyoung is thrusting. Rather, he takes his time, feeling the push and pull of Jackson's skin; how it welcomes him so easily and desperately tries to keep his length sheathed before he ultimately pulls out, readjusts, and thrusts in again.

It's on one of these thrusts that Jackson suddenly breaks from the low, pleased rumbling he was doing into a string of staccato moans.

Even before Jackson speaks, Jinyoung knows his attempts to savor him have been thwarted.

"Oh, so close," Jackson warns.

Jinyoung begins to pick up his pace, using his grip on Jackson's hips to pull him back as he pushes in again.

"Are you going to come untouched?" Jinyoung asks.

He watches as Jackson loses the little bit of composure he had, hands searching the sheets for purchase, bunching the fabric between his fingers. His forehead presses into the mattress, moans slightly muffled.

Jinyoung thinks he may like him better like this. It seems the harder and faster Jinyoung drives into him, the more blissed out Jackson becomes. And Jinyoung wants to see him go careening over the edge.

He reaches under Jackson, fingers teasingly running along his abdomen, just by where his swollen dick keeps rubbing along his skin. Squeezing a few fingers between Jackson and the mattress, he's able to locate one of his nipples, dragging his fingertips over the rosy bud.

He feels it on his cock as Jackson begins to shake, hole spamming around him, before he feels it on his wrist, Jackson's cum shooting up his stomach.

Jinyoung quickly pulls out, not wanting to already send Jackson into a spiral of sensitivity from overuse.

Instead, he flips Jackson over, carefully running his fingers through his hair.

"Wang-gae," he says. "Such a good, pretty boy."

Jackson turns his head, allowing Jinyoung to thread more of his hair between his fingers. "Mm, thank you. Just need a minute."

Jinyoung presses his side into the mattress, fingers abandoning Jackson's hair to brush along his skin, gliding through the sweat that had accumulated.

"Take your time," he permits. "We have all night."

At this, Jackson smiles. With his eyes closed, lips upturned at the corners, and cheeks flushed, it takes Jinyoung everything in him to not bend Jackson's knees and slide right back into him.

Instead, he sits up, hand patting Jackson's thigh. "How about we get you some food? You said you were hungry."

Jackson hums.

Jinyoung stands from the bed, grabbing Jackson's hands and nearly pulling his arms off just to get him sitting up.

He groans. "How much muscle mass have you gained the past month?"

Jackson opens one eye. "Not much. Maybe you're just weak."

Jinyoung reaches to pinch the cartilage of Jackson's ear between his fingers. "Whatever, you can get yourself to the kitchen now."

With a whine, Jackson attempts to turn back on his word, but Jinyoung has already stepped out of the room, leaving him behind.

Jackson stands, huffing when his legs wobble. After consecutive leg days for a week, all the muscle he built up couldn't even get him through one round of sex? He was disappointed.

He pushes through anyways, stumbling to the door and latching onto the wall to guide him to the kitchen area.

Jinyoung already has the fridge door open, rifling through its contents.

Most of what was in there was just containers with leftover croutons from the salads Jackson was always requesting.

Jinyoung sighs, opens the freezer, finds nothing, and sighs again.

Jackson thinks he could listen to Jinyoung search the kitchen all evening. But it wouldn't take that long-- the cupboards were all empty.

"Well, I'll put in a request for room service?" He asks, coming up unshockingly empty.

Jackson leans against the counter. "Sure. Whatever you want."

Jinyoung steps forward, close enough for Jackson to feel his warmth wash over him.

"What I want is already here."

Jackson practically melts against the counter. "Yeah, I think that minute I needed is over now."

Jinyoung glances at the oven timer. "I sure hope so. It's already been seven."

He presses his forehead against Jinyoung's shoulder, panted breaths already dizzying him. "How do you want me?"

Jinyoung digs his fingers into his hips, moving him how he'd like. Jackson, who could easily pin Jinyoung down, lets himself be positioned like a doll.

He ends up with his chest flush against the countertop, legs nudged close together.

Jinyoung runs two fingers down his spine before quickly stepping from the room.

With his absence, Jackson finally lets the muttering of a squeak pass through his lips. The countertop, a cold marble, is doing wonders for his flushed body and painfully hard nipples. The stimulation makes his legs shake and his pride thankful for the brunt of his weight being spread on the countertop.

Jinyoung returns, bare feet padding across the tile, and wastes no time in shoving two lubed fingers right into Jackson.

He nearly shrieks, but the sound dies in his throat when Jinyoung misses the mark.

How the hell did he manage to miss his rim, puckered so nicely for Jinyoung, surely gaping just a bit from how long he had the plug nestled within himself?

But Jinyoung's fingers keep gliding between his thighs, the lube bottle wedged between them to add more slick.

"Uh," Jackson begins. Then he swallows. "You kind of... missed the target."

Jinyoung laughs, the sound much like a deep bark that makes Jackson's chest rumble with warmth.

"I did not," Jinyoung assures.

Jackson is just about to question him again when Jinyoung clasps his shoulders, hips guiding his cock between Jackson's thighs.

Then he gets it.

And when the head of Jinyoung's cock manages to rub right along Jackson's aching shaft, he really gets it.

"Oh," he gasps. Then he squeezes his thighs closer together, straining his abs. Surely he could mark this on his calendar as his workout for the day?

"Yeah, oh," Jinyoung repeats, pulling his length back before sinking in again.

Jackson can feel Jinyoung's hips press against the curve of his ass, reminding him of how sore his walls are.

But his thighs also beg for his attention, the skin already feeling used. Leathery. Sensitive.

It felt so good. Jackson lets his head fall against the counter as he moans.

Jinyoung thrusts between his thighs again, bucking his hips, purposely rutting the tip of his length along Jackson's shaft.

"Again," Jackson gasps. "Please. Please, please."

He was expecting a scoff. Teasing. Denial. Instead, Jinyoung does just as asked.

"Wang-gae," he says. "You feel so good. Every part of you."

Jackson preens. Squeezes his thighs tighter together as Jinyoung slides between them, coated with lube.

Jinyoung gasps as Jackson clenches, milking the awaited orgasm right from his shaft.

His presses his head to Jackson's spine, feverishly thrusting a few more times, not even caring that Jackson's muscles have gone slack.

Then he's pressing in as far as he can manage, feeling Jackson's thighs clamped right around the base of his cock, his balls trapped between their heat. And Jinyoung comes, thick spurts rushing for release.

He taints the cabinets below the marble, Jackson's thighs, Jackson's dick, red and pulsing.

Jinyoung reaches between them, squeezing Jackson's tip in his fist.

And Jackson nearly screams as he comes, the heat running in waves up to his mind as he chokes on his breath and feels his stomach drop.

"Oh fuck," Jackson gasps. "Oh God."

Jinyoung chuckles from behind him. "Indeed."

He releases Jackson for a moment, making sure he can still stand, before he steps across the room, towards the table by the couch with a land-line set upon it.

"I'm going to order food now. Any last-minute requests?"

Jackson feels his hot breath over his arm, making his skin feel damp. "Just- no carbs or spice," he says. Even five words feels too draining. His throat feels raw and he can't remember just how much he'd moaned, but he figured it was probably enough to startle whoever was rooming on the other sides of them.

It takes the rest of his energy to waddle over to the couch, his thighs stinging whenever they rub together, and lets himself collapse upon it.

He can hear Jinyoung still ordering from where he's leaning against the couch, fingers running over the laminated menu on the table. The words pass through one ear and out the other for Jackson though.

Fishing his phone from where it lodged between couch cushions, Jackson carefully thumbs his password into it, praying he can erase the last comment he was working on.

Unfortunately, the comment had already been sent. But there were only three little random letters that he quickly covered up with an asterix in the comment thread, slapping a classic "lol" at the end to mask his embarrassment.

"They said it would be twenty minutes," Jinyoung announces, leaning over the couch to see Jackson.

Jackson imagined that he was quite a mess with his pink hair matted in various directions from tugging fingers and thighs still slick with cum and lube.

He turns his phone off, setting it on the coffee table. "That's fine."

Jinyoung flashes him one of his dazzling smiles. For a moment, Jackson imagines himself as a fan of Jinyoung the Actor. His heart seems to jerk in his chest.

But then he forces it to still, letting go of the silly fantasy. Jinyoung is...a business partner, of course.

A business partner that is staring at Jackson. Clearly waiting for an answer. Maybe he'd just made a fantastic project proposal and Jackson had zoned out the entire powerpoint?

Shaking his head, Jinyoung says, "I asked if you wanted to take a shower. And maybe have another snack."

Jackson sits up, still avoiding touching the leather with his filthy thighs. The movement strains his abs. This was definitely going on his schedule as a completed workout.

"You're hard? Again?" He sputters, finally seeing Jinyoung's full body over the back of the couch.

Jinyoung has the decency to at least look a little sheepish. "Well, it's been a while. There were no chances for fun on set."

Jackson scoffs but still climbs from the couch, hobbling towards the bathroom. "My ass is off limits for the next hour though," he teases.

Following him into the bathroom, Jinyoung grins, white teeth sharp and irresistible. Jackson feels his stupid, stupid heart jerk again.

"You have another hole though."

***

An aching jaw and an omelet later, Jackson is lying back on the couch, one leg tossed over the back of it as his back chafes along the leathery surface.

Jinyoung had waited exactly an hour before he hastily shoved two fingers into Jackson, pumping him with an influx of lube, before he rolled a condom down his length and pushed right in.

Jackson had allowed one of his lands to travel down his chest, over his toned stomach, and loosely wrap around his length.

Which Jinyoung permitted for about twelve seconds.

Then, Jinyoung was pulling out and walking back to the bedroom, returning only a few minutes later with a coil of rope in his hands.

Now Jackson has it wrapped carefully around his wrists, which are raised above his head, as far as they could be from his own pathetically hard length.

It was a soft red rope that hardly irritated his skin at all, but for the first few minutes, Jinyoung kept asking, "Wang-gae, is that too tight? Are your wrists okay?"

Jackson would only smile and assure that they were. Part of him wanted to admit that even if they were a little too tight, he wouldn't mind. As long as Jinyoung had been the one to tie the knot.

Jinyoung thrusts into him hard, making Jackson forget about the rope as he chokes on a moan.

Seeming to like the sound, Jinyoung does it again, hand reaching up to ease Jackson's jaw open further, the little moans and pants freely passing through his open mouth.

Even though his jaw hurts, Jackson slips his tongue past his teeth, over his lip, and begs Jinyoung with his eyes.

Without hesitation, Jinyoung slides his hand closer to Jackson's chin, thumb pressing on Jackson's tongue, making spit fall past Jackson's lips and over his chin.

Before he can make much more of a mess of himself-- he just showered!-- Jackson sucks Jinyoung's thumb into his mouth.

Jinyoung slows his pace down, letting Jackson swirl his tongue around his thumb without worry of choking, but he's sure to angle his hips differently, tip brushing right against Jackson's prostate, making him nearly bite down on Jinyoung's thumb.

Before he can, Jinyoung retracts his thumb, swiping the pad of it across Jackson's lower lip.

After another jarring thrust, Jackson whimpers, opening his mouth for Jinyoung again.

Jinyoung guides his thumb back into Jackson's mouth and when Jackson wraps his lips desperately around it and sucks, he leans over Jackson, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Jackson flourishes. His legs open wider for Jinyoung, his walls clench around Jinyoung's length, and his back arches from the couch.

With a low moan, Jinyoung moves his lips to Jackson's neck, teething the flesh, only pulling away when he was certain it was beginning to bruise. He noses further down his neck, leaving another at the conjunction of Jackson's neck and shoulder.

Jackson still has Jinyoung's thumb in his mouth, sucking on the digit with his spit-slicked lips.

He's so, so close. Jinyoung leaning over him has trapped his dick between their bodies and finally, finally does he have the friction he needs.

Jinyoung moves his other hand from Jackson's hip, sliding it to the sensitive skin of his thigh, close to where his knee is hooked over the back of the couch.

When Jackson breaks from sucking at his thumb to gasp, broken and needy, Jinyoung rears his hand back and delivers it's weight again with a sharp slap.

Jackson cries, thighs shaking and dick spasming between them.

He's not sure what he says in the moment. He could have been worshipping Jinyoung as his God or listing the ingredients of his go-to morning shake for all he knew.

Whatever he says has Jinyoung pulling him from the couch, letting his limp body slump against the carpeted floor as he rams back into him.

Jackson can still feel the tears running down his cheeks, his thighs and ass feeling so used, his arms beginning to grow sore from the position the rope forces him into.

But even as Jinyoung pulls his hips from the ground and presses his face against the carpet with a hand in his hair, Jackson feels good.

If he had the energy to speak, surely he would have worshipped Jinyoung.

But all he can do is moan, feeling pleasure in the weight filling his stomach.

He feels heavy, finally unable to replace the pain with pleasure. But still, it makes his chest pur and his eyes roll into his head.

Jinyoung's grip on his hip is bruising, grounding, entirely caring.

"Jackson," he gasps, for the first time. "You feel so good. I'm so close."

Turning his head, Jackson uses the last of his energy. "Cum inside me, Jinyoungie, please."

That's all it takes to feel Jinyoung thicken impossibly inside him before his thrusts pause, length jerking only slightly before stilling completely as he pulls out.

He takes care of Jackson first, untying the red rope and lifting Jackson back onto the couch, swiping away the hair falling in his eyes.

For only a moment, he walks away, returning with a glass of water and a washcloth.

As he makes Jackson sit up and sip some, he wipes the cum still cooling on Jackson's stomach before he wipes at his own, throwing both the washcloth and the used condom in the trash.

"You want to lie in the bed?" Jinyoung asks, kneeling by Jackson.

Jackson opens an eye, frowning. "You're crazy if you think I can walk right now. My ass hurts, man."

Jinyoung laughs, one of the unabashed full-of-teeth ones that Jackson hopes only he can draw out of him.

"I'm offering to carry you, fool."

Jackson bites his lip. He should say no but his stupid, jerking heart makes him say yes.

***

Jackson always felt that Jinyoung was sincere. Especially when he had his dick thrusting, quick and needy, into his ass, or when he had Jackson's lips wrapped around his length, his own muttering an endless string of praises.

But then, when Jinyoung met him at the door, his white button-up looking as crisp as it was when he arrived, and his goodbye as cold as a business transaction, Jackson wasn't really sure what to believe.

He was sure this was why he was starting to hate actors. Jackson figured you could never truly tell the difference between when they were being sincere or when they were acting. Well, not the good actors anyways.

And Jinyoung was a good actor. An amazing one, even. Jackson was sure he had dozens of awards lined on a frequently dusted shelf at home.

So it drove him insane, wondering if the moments Jinyoung shared, the words he uttered, when they both seemed too far gone, were sincere. Or if Jinyoung was simply playing the role, encouraging Jackson so he'd give more of himself. Because he truly did; with Jinyoung, he gave his all.

"One of my assistants collected a few pieces from your new line, right?" Jinyoung asks, pulling Jackson's attention away from where he was lacing up his shoes and sulking.

He stands. "Yeah. I brought her three shirts for you."

Jinyoung smiles. One of the ones that only curled his lip slightly. Jackson doesn't get to see any teeth.

"She explained how this will be done, didn't she?"

Jackson nods but Jinyoung continues anyway. Maybe he does really think him a fool or a dumb pump.

"Essentially, I'll wear them during some script run-throughs for my next drama. There will be some fans waiting at the doors and a photographer inside to capture some special behind-the-scenes moments."

Again, Jackson nods. This wasn't anything new. This was how their contract had always been designed.

"Should help sales immensely," Jinyoung notes, slipping on his leather shoes without even needing to lean down to adjust the heel.

Jackson feels his phone vibrate in the pocket of his sweats. He pulls it out, eyeing the notification from his banking app that a transaction had just been made.

"Well," Jinyoung says, fingers already grasping the silver door handle. "The shirts have been received and the endorsement has been sent. I'll see you next time then."

Jackson watches him nod one last time before stepping through the door.

He stands then, in the suddenly freezing hotel room, for a moment, feeling the way his heart jerks and shakes.

**Author's Note:**

> To my regular readers, I'm so sorry for the hiatus I've been on. It was unintentional and I'm trying my best right now to write the requested works and a few more to make up for how long I've been gone.


End file.
